Sometimes, in the cold darkness of winter particularly, I can’t help but think about how it’s all going to end. It’s incredibly depressing to contemplate one’s own mortality; Even plastic breaks down over time. I guess the fear of irrefutable extinction is what drives people to religion. The hope for a beautiful afterlife must be a wonderful pacifier. But what if the after-life isn’t so beautiful, what if it’s terrible, tortuous. If I were to accept the premise that there truly is an afterlife how could I be certain I was headed in the preferred direction? When I think about it, throughout history there are more depictions of Hell than of Paradise.